Oh, we made it to Cassville all right. But we never made it out of the Wal-Mart parking lot.
The adventure, as it were, started out okay. There was that bizarre rainbow in the sky thing that wasn’t quite right. It was a rainbow, but it… wasn’t. It was just stuck in the sky in the opening of some clouds. No rain, just a lot of sun. We chalked it up to moisture in the sky. It reminded me vaguely of the devil rainbow. Devil rainbow, you say? Right. Last fall the sky was brilliant red after a rainstorm, the sun was setting as it’s prone to doing, and there was this rainbow. You could make out all the colors, but it was primarily red. Hence, the devil rainbow. This one though, just sort of hovered in the sky for half an hour and no matter which direction we turn it, it was visible. No ends, just that blob there. End times are a-comin’, my friends. You know, if you believe that. If not, then it was just a bizarre rainbow. Which is probably what it was. All I know is, I’ve been seeing a lot of them in the last year.
So PeeWee had his haircut and as promised, was allowed to come on the weekend outing in which we were visiting Roaring River again because I have this crazy idea it’ll be fun to climb a couple hundred feet into the air and look over this cave entrance. By the time we reached Cassville, I was covered in dog hair. We decided to stop at Wal-Mart–the largest chain retailers in America for those of you who don’t own one. I was going to get a new shirt and buy us some munchies. I had a heck of a time finding shirts, then had to deal with the lady that couldn’t figure out her debit card. When I got back to the truck, there’s husband standing on the passenger side looking frantic.
I thought he’d killed the dog.
PeeWee, bless his heart apparently had to potty. PeeWee can’t communicate in a language that humans clearly understand. Neither one of us thought anything about it because he tinkled before we left. There. Was. Poo. EVERYWHERE.
PeeWee is huddling on the toolbox looking like a refugee from an oilspill (or sewage spill, really). There was Husband trying to get the seat cover off the seat. There was me wondering what kind of message God was trying to send with the wonky rainbow. And wondering why I bother making plans because there’s always some kind of quirk that will no doubt ruin my day. We’re 60 miles from home with a poo-covered dog and nowhere to bathe him. Guess who got to ride home on mom’s lap in an old t-shirt? You guessed it.
Husband was mostly angry because I made him cut the seat cover off. He kept going on about how he lost a seat cover. Somehow I always end up riding home with poo-covered animals on my lap. Really? You want to complain about a $7 seat cover? Here, you hold the poo-covered dog and I’ll drive (okay, I won’t drive because I can’t drive a standard, but still!)! I guess it was my fault because I fed him a can of Skippy dog food instead of what he usually eats. Next time, don’t buy Skippy. Sometimes poo stories are funny. That time, it really wasn’t. Only me.
We got home, PeeWee had a bath and we went to see a movie instead, sans dog. My recommendation: 1) make sure dog goes poo before any long trips. 2) Save your money, wait until Hot Tub Time Machine comes to DVD or Blu-Ray. It was funny, but not outrageously high-priced movie theatre funny.